


Hindering my Likeability

by Littlest_Phantomhive



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Eating Disorders, binge eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-13 16:59:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlest_Phantomhive/pseuds/Littlest_Phantomhive





	Hindering my Likeability

  Aunt Ann didn’t make breakfast.

  Aunt Ann didn’t make lunch.

  Aunt Ann didn’t make any food for her nephews. They had to make it themselves, even if they were thirteen years old. All of the ingredients were in the kitchen, and there was a Busch’s not even a mile away. They could walk, and they had the time to do it. Aunt Ann didn’t - she was doing what she called ‘herbal research’ in the clouded living room, sitting in tight clothes that made her feel pretty, face drowned in maroon-coloured make-up, and waiting for her friends to come pick her up so they could go out for the night. She was always away on weekends.

  “I’ll be back later tonight, love you,” She hurriedly called, already halfway out the door.

  Astre sighed, getting up from the couch and walking into the kitchen, getting a pan from a cupboard near the stove. His stomach growled, but he barely comprehended any sort of noise. As he grabbed a carton of eggs and a carton of milk from the refrigerator, as well as a spoon from the silverware drawer, he wondered when the last time he ate was. He sprayed olive oil onto the pan, estimating that it had been maybe a week and a half - maybe even closer to two weeks. A sharp pain in his side made the boy jolt as he started up the burner.

  “Astre!” Ciel yelled from the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed.

  Astre jumped, turning around with a slightly annoyed look. “What?”

  “I asked you what you were making!  _ Twice _ !” Ciel fussed, stamping his foot onto the oak wood planks.

  The younger twin huffed and rolled his eyes at his Brother’s childish display. “Scrambled eggs.”

  This answer didn’t satisfy Ciel either. The older, less mature boy began to rant that scrambled eggs was their breakfast this morning, like most other mornings, that he wanted chicken instead. That they always ate the same foods over and over again. That he, just for even one time, wanted to have something else, like the food they used to eat before ‘the accident’. Ciel even forced tears into his eyes to try to convince his younger counterpart to give into his wishes.

  “Ciel, I don’t know  _ how  _ to make chicken. There’s some chicken-flavoured ramen cups in the soup cupboard. All you have to do is put some water in it and then put it into the microwave for a minute or two.” 

  “Fine. But that’s not going to fill me up. Make one egg.”

  “Yeah, fine,” Astre agreed with a sigh.

  Said boy resumed the process and cracked open one egg, poured a bit of milk into the pan, and put the rest back in the fridge. He waited for clumps to start forming before he slowly started stirring the spoon. It wasn’t clear to him if it was this motion, the heat, or his fatigue that was starting to make him dizzy. Either way, he didn’t realise that the crackling of the eggs had quieted his slight stumble. Wondering what he wanted to eat, as it wouldn’t be this, he sped up the spoon, making sure no one side was cooked too much. The microwave let out a string of obnoxious beeps, soon silenced by Ciel. Astre was soon taking out a paper plate and sliding the scrambled eggs onto it.

  Without a word, Astre set the plate down carelessly in front of his Brother and went to the pantry instead. Astre took an unopened bag of crisps and went to his room. Once he had shut the door, he realised just how damn  **_hungry_ ** he was. Quickly, he sat in his chair at his computer and opened up YouTube, going to Philip DeFranco, and clicking on his most recent video. The bag crinkled loudly as he opened it. Then he turned the volume up so he could hear the man talk about the  _ Gabbie Show  _ and  _ Ricegum  _ controversy over his crunching. By the time the video was over, the bag was completely empty. Astre had eaten every last crumb. He felt so full that his now bloated stomach hurt; at the same time, he was still hungry.

  Sighing, he pushed himself away from his computer and got out clean clothes. He then walked into the bathroom after catching a glimpse of Ciel; he was still at the kitchen table, plate and noodle cup empty, texting away at a friend.

  Astre shut and lock the door, turned on an ice-cold shower, and refused to look in the mirror as he undressed. A wobbly foot stepped into the shower, shaky hands gripping the wall for support

  ‘ _ I will not throw up _ ,’ he told himself. ‘ _ I will  _ **_not_ ** _ throw this up. I can probably work it off. Maybe I’ll take a walk tomorrow. Cold water burns more calories than warm water anyways. _ ’ He shivered.

  After Astre was finished with his shower and finished dressing, he took the full laundry bin and dragged it to the laundry room. He then dumped the dirtied clothes into the washing machine, put the bin back, and returned to his room. A light glow emitted from the cracks of his face-down phone. Two unread messages, both from Sebastian, about 13 minutes ago.

  “ _ Hey. _ ”

  “ _ How are you doing? :) _ ”

  With yet another sigh, Astre sat down on the lower of the two bunks - his bunk.

  ‘ _ Hi _ ,’ He replied to the text.

  “ _ How are you doing? _ ”

  ‘ _ My stomach hurts a little, other than that Im fine. _ ’

  “ _ Did you eat today? Should I come over? _ ”

  ‘ _ Yeah. My aunts out so you can come over if you want. _ ’

  “ _ Ok. I’ll be over at about 6:30ish, ok? _ ”

  ‘ _ Okay. _ ’

  Astre turned the screen off and put his phone down by his pillow with a yawn. He laid down and pulled a thin, light blue blanket over him. The full-blast fan was making him cold.

  He shut his tired eyes. Maybe he could get a short nap in those 25 minutes waiting for Sebastian. There wasn’t anything else he could come up with to do in that time. And he was too tired to do anything else, so  **_tired_ ** . Despite the large ‘meal,’ he had absolutely no energy left. Disappointment weight him down.

  With those thoughts, he drifted to sleep.


End file.
